|
How can the small flowers grow, |
|
If the wild wind blows, |
|
And the cold snow |
|
Is all around. |
|
And where will the frail birds fly, |
|
If their homes on high |
|
Have been torn down |
|
To the ground. |
|
Lift the Wings, |
|
And carry me away from here |
|
And fill the sails |
|
That breaks the line to dawn. |
|
But when I'm miles and miles apart from you, |
|
I'm beside you when |
|
I think of you a stoirin gra. |
|
How can a tree stand tall,if the rain won't fall,to wash its branches down. |
|
And how can the heart survive, |
|
Can it stay alive? |
|
If its loves denied for long. |
|
Lift the Wings, |
|
And carry me away from here |
|
And fill the sails |
|
That breaks the line to home. |
|
But when I'm miles and miles apart from you, |
|
I'm beside you when |
|
I think of you a stoirin,and |
|
I'm with you as |
|
I dream of you a stoirin,and the sun will bring menear to you a stoirin a gra. |
